Turnabout
by hereswith
Summary: An unexpected meeting sends Jack and Elizabeth into a headlong flight. Part of my JE storyline, and takes place after White Squall. [Complete]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own it. Everything you recognise belongs to Disney. No infringement  
is intended and I'm certainly not making any money from this story.  
**Summary**: An unexpected meeting sends Jack and Elizabeth into a headlong flight. Part  
of my J/E storyline, it takes place sometime after "White Squall". If you haven't read the  
other fics, you should know that this is set several years after the movie and Elizabeth is  
a widow.  
**Author's note**: A Christmas gift for my dear friend Geek Mama.

**  
Turnabout **  
**by Hereswith**

**  
Chapter 1 **

"'No worries', you said," Elizabeth muttered. They weren't running anymore, merely walking  
with haste, but she was winded and had the beginnings of a stitch in her side. "'Back on the _  
Pearl_ before dusk'." 

"Now, to be fair, love," Jack interjected, "I didn't know Lynch'd be there. He and Obadiah  
haven't exactly been on the friendliest of terms, in the past."

She glanced at him, recalling the harsh exchange of words that she had overheard, just prior to  
their precipitate flight. "Is it true you killed his brother?"

"Aye." He grimaced. "Some years since, in an honest enough fight, as it were, though Lynch  
would never own to it."

His expression was uncommonly severe, a telltale sign that the situation was dire, indeed, and  
Elizabeth frowned. "Who is he?"

Jack was silent at first, then said, "Pirate. But not a good man." He indicated her attire: the  
coat, the breeches and the hat. "You'd be worth more to him alive, should he discover you're  
not—what you seem."

"Oh." A chill of fright went down her spine as the full implication of his words sank in. "But—"

"That's him! Pearce, get yerself over here, now!"

Jack cursed, taking hold of her arm and propelling her forward. "Go!"

There were two of them, as far as she could make out from a brief look back: an older, balding  
man, who had already given chase, and his dark-haired comrade, Pearce, trailing slightly behind.  
Lynch wasn't with them, so the crewmembers must have split up to widen the search; she had  
only glimpsed him once, through the crack of a half-closed door, but she would have recognised  
him by the crooked scar on his cheek.

They dashed across a nearly deserted market square, with Elizabeth in the lead, then, at Jack's  
urging, past a butcher's stall and down a narrow, dirty street, where the gutters were clogged  
with filth. The pirates were hard on their heels, she could hear them shouting and she lengthened  
her strides, dreading the whine of a stray bullet. After a long straight stretch the street veered  
to the left and Elizabeth took the corner too sharply, almost tripping over the dead cat that lay   
directly in her path. She stumbled, losing her balance, and fell to her knees, crying out in pain.

Jack skidded to a halt, turning towards her, and their pursuers caught up with them in that  
instant. While the older one set upon Jack, Pearce roughly grabbed Elizabeth by the shoulders  
and pulledher up. She resisted, hitting him where she could and kicking out, and he could not  
maintain his grasp; she stomped on his foot, wrested free and swirled on him, drawing her  
sword.

"Think ye can stand against me, boy?" Pearce scorned. He was taller than she was, but not  
by much, and fairly skinny, his nose beaked above a drooping moustache. "Let's see ye try,  
then!" He lunged at her, brandishing his own blade.

She was quick and light and Will had taught her much, as had Jack. She had learned how to  
fence so that she made the most of her strengths, always keeping her opponent on edge. It   
was not quite so uneven a match as Pearce had obviously expected, and when Elizabeth  
managed to slide her sword under his guard, cutting him so that blood was spilt, he let out  
a stream of foul expletives and his smirk changed to an ugly snarl.

They circled each other, feinting, and though she spotted Jack further off, engaged in a fierce   
struggle, she could not afford to let her attention waver. She parried and thrust again, beads  
of sweat trickling down her temple. Pearce countered, nicking her arm in the process and  
she flinched, dodging as he charged anew. Her muscles started to protest, straining against  
the force of his blows, but anger made him clumsy and Elizabeth, finding another opening,  
struck. The pirate twisted, but could not evade the stroke that gashed his leg. Growling in  
fury, he moved in on her fast, before she could retreat, dropped his sword and whipped out  
a knife. Elizabeth stilled, completely, as cold metal was pressed against her throat.

"I'll slit ye from ear to ear," Pearce threatened, his breath hot and fetid. "Bleed ye out like  
a pig."

"Wouldn't do that if I was you, mate. Let the lad go."

Relief coursed through her, and though she could not turn her head and look at Jack, she  
could guess at what occurred, there was no mistaking the click of a pistol being cocked.

"Sparrow!" Pearce spat, with considerable venom.

"Captain Sparrow," Jack chided. "And I'd recommend you not do anything foolish. Let  
him go."

Pearce shifted his grip on the knife and Elizabeth whispered a prayer, her insides clenching  
in sheer panic. But he lowered the weapon instead, as if he meant to comply, then, all of  
a sudden, shoved her out of the way and went for Jack. A shot rang out and Pearce slumped  
heavily to the ground.

Elizabeth staggered, and supported herself against the nearest wall, the smell of gunpowder  
masking the stench of rot and death. She raised her fingers to her throat and they came  
away trembling and stained with red, a few drops, nothing more, the wound was slight,  
but she bent forward, feeling dizzy.

After a moment, Jack's boots entered her field of vision, and his hand touched her back.  
"All right?"

"Yes." She straightened gingerly, sheathed her sword and ensured that her hat was securely  
on, averting her eyes from Pearce's corpse.

"You did well," he said, and his smile was a glimmer of warmth, for which she was infinitely  
grateful.

"I could have done better. He surprised me." Elizabeth bit her lip, remembering. "Thank you."

Jack put his right palm to his chest and gave a small bow. "My pleasure, darling."

A huff of laughter escaped her, at that, but it soon faded. Voices wafted through the night air,  
a sobering reminder that their predicament had yet to be resolved.

"Come!" said Jack, and she followed him as he headed down the street, past the sprawling  
body of the second, now forever nameless, man.

They stayed close to the houses, and the shadows that had not been scattered by lanterns,  
or by the moon, shining high above. There were people about, but not so many that they   
could easily slip into a crowd and disappear. And Jack Sparrow, Captain Jack Sparrow,  
was not so nondescript that his passage went unremarked.

When Elizabeth told Jack of her concerns, he chuckled, "Are you saying I'm too conspicuous,  
love?"

"Well," she began. "Yes. They know you, Jack, Lynch knows you. And the _Pearl_—the  
cove's on the other side of the town."

"True," he said, then stopped, so abruptly that she bumped into him. "Ah!"

Elizabeth thought the worst, until she realised that he was gazing at a bustling tavern, up ahead.  
"Jack?" she asked, warily, as he began walking in that very direction. "What are you intending  
to do?"

"Find a woman," he said.

She blinked, confused. "Are you jesting?"

"On so serious a matter? Never." He grinned at her, all effulgence, all innocence, and it did  
not reassure her one whit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I don't own it. Everything you recognise belongs to Disney. No infringement  
is intended and I'm certainly not making any money from this story.  
**Summary**: An unexpected meeting sends Jack and Elizabeth into a headlong flight. Part  
of my J/E storyline, it takes place sometime after "White Squall". If you haven't read the  
other fics, you should know that this is set several years after the movie and Elizabeth is  
a widow.  
**Author's note**: A Christmas gift for my dear friend Geek Mama.

**  
Turnabout **  
**by Hereswith**

**  
Chapter 2 **

Jack, seemingly acquainted with the lay of the place, steered her to a side entrance, away from  
the tumult at the front of the tavern. "Wait here," he instructed, and when Elizabeth made as if to  
protest, he swiftly continued, "If she's favourably disposed to the suggestion, I'll fetch you. Savvy?" 

Before she could demand a proper explanation, he was gone, having slipped through the door  
and into the building. Elizabeth stared after him, somewhat at a loss, then heaved a frustrated sigh.

Far too restless to remain rooted to the spot where he had, so unceremoniously, left her, she took  
to pacing instead. Even if it was tempting to blame Jack, entirely and for everything, she couldn't,  
not when she had wished to go with him. But she was tired, bruised, the graze on her arm stung,  
and she sincerely hoped that he indeed had a plan. Madcap or not.

A whistle, interspersed with bursts of song, caused her to jerk around. Some raggedy stranger  
was wobbling down the alley towards her and though Elizabeth tensed, she wasn't quite as  
apprehensive as she would have been, had she worn long flowing skirts, and had her hair not  
been concealed. Since he was soused, it was unlikely he belonged to Lynch's crew, but even so,  
she would prefer not to have to deal with him.

Just then, as if in answer to her thoughts, Jack stuck his head out the door. "There you are," he  
said, jovially, like he had not told her to wait, and she barely refrained from pointing that out, before  
she hurried inside.

The din and clamour grew louder as he led her through a passage and to a steep staircase. A woman,  
past the first blush of youth, was standing at the foot of it, her features were striking rather than  
beautiful, and she carried herself with an air of authority.

"Sarah." Jack gestured sweepingly at Elizabeth. "This is Turner, topman on the _Pearl_."

"That so, Jack?" she queried.

"Aye," Jack replied. "Lad's mute, but he's up the ratlines like he was born to it. Excellent dancer,  
too," he added, as if upon reflection. "Pity he can't speak."

Elizabeth opened her mouth, and promptly snapped it shut. Jack's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly,  
and she would have glared at him, if not for the other woman's keen scrutiny. As it was, she settled  
for dipping her head in greeting.

"A mere boy," Sarah said, thoughtfully, "a terrible misfortune, ain't it?"

"Terrible," Jack agreed, as grave as if he'd uttered no falsehood, then leaned in on Sarah. "What  
of our accord, love?"

Sarah snorted, but with amusement, not derision. "One of the rooms upstairs is empty," she  
confirmed. "Come with me."

Much to Elizabeth's embarrassment there could be no doubt about what went on, on the upper  
floor. The muffled noises were evident proof of it, as was the presence of the girl who passed  
them in the corridor, her face painted and her bosom provocatively displayed.

Sarah took them to a room with a small, curtained window, at the back of the house. It was sparsely  
furnished, but there was a large bed, which appeared to have been recently occupied—Elizabeth's  
cheeks heated at the images that came unbidden in her mind—and a vanity against the opposite wall.

Sarah, pausing at the threshold, addressed Jack, "Kate's about yer height, I reckon. I'll talk to her."

She closed the door behind her with a thud and Elizabeth turned immediately to Jack, who raised  
his hands in mock surrender, or as if to fend her off. "You wanted me to be inconspicuous," he  
reminded her. "Besides, you've seen me trussed up all ladylike before."

Which she had, of course, during one of his whirlwind visits to Port Royal, but it had been a mourning  
dress on that particular occasion and she had not known it was he, until he had lifted the veil. "You're  
enjoying this, aren't you?" she accused. "These masquerades?"

And he, the scoundrel, completely unfazed, winked at her and said, "Peas in a pod, eh, Mrs. Turner?"

It brought her up short, as must have been his purpose, and she gritted her teeth, acutely aware of  
the fact that she could not make a convincing argument while she was in a disguise as outlandish,  
and as inappropriate for her sex, as the one he contemplated. "Bloody pirate!" she scowled, but it  
was more habit than biting insult, and he smirked, acknowledging it as such.

Avoiding the disarranged bed, Elizabeth seated herself by the vanity and pinched the bridge of her   
nose. "So, is she an old friend, or an old enemy you've blandished into a truce?"

"Sarah? She's been both," Jack replied, "depending on circumstance and, I dare say, inclination.  
Wasn't rightly sure she wouldn't do worse than slap me."

"She slapped you?" she asked, curious. "Did you deserve it?"

"Probably did," he admitted and then, teasingly, "You're devilish verbose for a mute, darling."

"Bah!" said Elizabeth.

_xx_

Sarah returned with some assorted pieces of clothing—among them a blue dress—and deposited them  
on the bed. "Ye don't need me to stay, I take it?" She cast a gaze at Elizabeth.

It could have been an innocuous question, but it was abundantly clear that it was not, and Elizabeth was  
struck speechless, in truth, because whatever else this woman might be, she had not been deceived.

"Yer a fine lad, pet. I've an eye for it, is all," Sarah explained, noting Elizabeth's bewilderment. "And  
'tis in how he looks at ye." She arched a wry brow at Jack. "I'll leave ye to it, shall I?"

"You've done more than enough as it is, love," Jack said smoothly and bent to kiss her hand. "I'm in  
your debt."

"Good," Sarah smiled. "Gives me leverage, when next we meet." Before departing, she nodded at  
Elizabeth and said, with no discernible hint of sarcasm in her tone, "Mr. Turner."

Only when she and Jack were alone again, did Elizabeth find her voice. "Oh, no."

"Sharp as a tack, that one," Jack commented, tugging his shirt out of his breeches. "But she's not prone  
to meddling, Lizzie, or tattling."

Elizabeth, still uneasy, mulled that over for a little while, but as Jack began rifling through the items on  
the bed, she got up. "Well," she said, rather grudgingly, "I suppose I shall have to help you."

He chuckled. "If you would be so kind."

_xx_

It was not as difficult or time-consuming a task to get him into the garments as it could have been, all  
things considered, he was familiar with such intricate trappings, though Elizabeth suspected the experience  
lay more in removing them, than putting them on.

The dress was of silken cloth, and it fit him tolerably well, after some adjusting and additional padding.  
When she had fastened the lacing, Jack sat down, and she gathered the tangles of his hair and tied them  
back as best she could, since it would take too long to attempt to pry the numerous adornments loose.

She had meant to pull away, after she had finished, but the line of his neck was bared down to the   
shoulders and his skin would be soft, it would be warm beneath her fingers. The leap from thought to  
action was made almost unconsciously, and when he shivered, she shivered in response.

"Lizzie," he said, very low, and she froze, glancing up and into the mirror. The image in the glass  
disconcerted her even as it thrilled her, it was like a painted scene of a seduction: their poses, the ruffles  
and lace, and the hand placed so firmly upon naked flesh—positively shameless. And it was she, not  
Jack, who acted the rake. She flushed to the tips of her ears and took a step backward, so as to  
prevent herself from stepping forward.

Jack rose, with an incongruous rustle of fabric. "Do I make as fine as woman, then, as you a lad?"

Elizabeth swallowed. "There's the beard."

"Ah, yes," he mused, rubbing at the same. "Mayhap I should shave it off?"

"No," she blurted out, and regretted it at once.

"Like it that much, do you?" he said, annoyingly smug.

"I cannot imagine you without it," Elizabeth hedged. "And the hood of the mantle will hide it, if you're  
careful, will it not?"

A hard rap on the door interrupted them. It wasn't Sarah, Elizabeth discovered, but another woman,  
her red curls pinned up and coiled. "Ye have to go, sir," she insisted. "There's trouble below." And,  
having delivered that message, she rushed off.

Fear rolled over Elizabeth, like a wave, and she had to brace herself against it before being able to  
go back into the room. Jack had already donned mantle and gloves, and Elizabeth picked up his rings,  
pocketing them, then hefted the bag with the rest of his effects, breaking the strained quiet with an  
unsteady, "Jack?"

"Drop's too high from the window," he answered, his eyes holding hers. "We'll chance the stairs, aye?"

She hesitated. "Aye."

They quit the room and proceeded down the corridor with caution. The stairway was mercifully  
devoid of people, as was the passage, and they could get outside without any unpleasant encounters.  
But they would be plainly visible from the tavern's main entrance, from the end of the alley on, and  
Jack went ahead to determine the danger. He presently beckoned her to him.

"Saunter," he said, "pretend it's naught but an evening stroll."

Elizabeth kept near him, feeling skittish and certain that everyone around was observing them.  
Gradually, though, she saw that this was not the case, some lurched drunkenly about and seemed  
oblivious to their surroundings. But there was, by the double doors, a man more alert than most  
others were, and he had three pistols strapped to a belt across his chest.

The faint wisp of a breeze was no comfort, it did not smell of the sea, and as the pirate suddenly  
swivelled his head, Elizabeth's breath hitched. But Jack, from a distance, was slender and straight,  
the dress gave a fair illusion of flaring hips, and he did not move like a man, or like the infamous  
Jack Sparrow; he was as graceful as any woman had ever learned to be. And the pirate's gaze  
did not linger.

They rounded a corner and were, not safe, but out of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I don't own it. Everything you recognise belongs to Disney. No infringement  
is intended and I'm certainly not making any money from this story.  
**Summary**: An unexpected meeting sends Jack and Elizabeth into a headlong flight. Part  
of my J/E storyline, it takes place sometime after "White Squall". If you haven't read the  
other fics, you should know that this is set several years after the movie and Elizabeth is  
a widow.  
**Author's note**: A Christmas gift for my dear friend Geek Mama. Reviews are greatly  
appreciated.

**  
Turnabout **  
**by Hereswith**

**  
Chapter 3 **

The way back through the town seemed longer now, in the gloom of night and with the threat of  
a capture hanging over them. Jack's efforts had improved their odds, however. Inasmuch as he  
still attracted interest, it was of another kind, and Elizabeth cringed when a burly sailor called out  
after them, as rudely offensive as he was ebullient.

"Pay him no heed," said Jack, in a conspiratorial hush, and he sounded, at least, just like himself.  
"You're twice the man he claims to be."

"Only twice?" she answered, appraising him. "You're disturbingly good at this, Captain Sparrow.  
I swear, he'd rip off your clothes, given the opportunity."

"And you wouldn't?"

"I don't—that's not the point."

"I'm not averse to ripping," he went on, "if it's done right, and if it's the right person doing it."

"Incorrigible," she said, belying the flutter in her stomach.

"I'll take that as a compliment, love."

Elizabeth shook her head, stifling a chortle, then, on a more serious note, "Jack? Do you think they  
harmed anyone at the tavern?"

"Sarah doesn't lack protection," he replied. "They wouldn't touch her, even if they knew we'd  
been there. And she'll have convinced them otherwise."

The story behind his relationship with that woman was, Elizabeth presumed, as fantastic as any  
tale he had spun for her, but though she was tempted to ask, it would have to wait. Her brow  
furrowed as she recognised the church on the left. "We're close to the docks, aren't we?"

"Aye," Jack confirmed.

Earlier in the day, when they had cut across the bluff from the cove to the town, it had been at their  
leisure and the sun had been up, illuminating the landscape. As pleasant an excursion as it had been,  
the prospect of having to return by that route did not appeal to her. "It would be easier to get to  
the _Pearl_, if we had a boat."

"Are you proposing we steal one? Pirate's logic, Mrs. Turner," he commented, "and I've considered  
it, but I lay Lynch has ordered the docks to be watched. Might be it's better to skirt round them."

They lapsed into silence, after that, so as not to be overheard, and the absence of imminent peril  
lulled Elizabeth into a sense of false security. It lasted until she spotted Lynch, and the world  
shattered. Four men followed him, but he stood out from them, his hair as dark as Jack's, though  
cropped short and streaked through with grey. He had golden buttons on his coat and golden rings  
in his ears, and he wore the slash of a scar like a mark of honour.

The pirates were some distance away, but that would change soon enough, they were on the move,  
a hunting party, heavily armed and out to kill, and judging by how they accosted a hapless passer-by,  
their tempers were flaring.

"If we turn tail, they will guess something is amiss," Elizabeth said, and she had naively believed  
that she was prepared for this, but she wasn't. They would have to face Lynch and his underlings  
on an open street, with moonlight washing over them.

Jack motioned at a gap between two buildings, and they ducked into it. The alley was cramped  
and it proved to be a dead end, they could not venture more than a few yards down it, but it  
offered shelter. Elizabeth placed the bag on the ground and leaned against the side of a house,  
having a fleeting wish that she could melt into the stone, somehow, and vanish.

She closed her eyes, in fervent denial of reality, but could not block out the shuffle of boots, or  
the clinking of metal. Farther off, a dog barked, and the men were talking and arguing. One of  
them coughed. Even though defeat was inevitable against such adversaries, Elizabeth clutched  
the hilt of her sword, and her thoughts whirled, she could not gather them, could scarcely breathe.

A shutter slammed above her, and her eyelids flew up.

"What's that, eh?"

Jack's hand wrapped around her wrist. "Nothing for it, then," he whispered. "You'll have to  
kiss me."

It was perfect reasoning, of course, and perfectly absurd. Without deliberation Elizabeth pressed  
herself against him, pinning him to the wall, and it was awkward and strange, with him in the dress,  
but she nudged her knee between his legs, skimmed her right palm over layers of fabric to rest  
near his thigh, and put her mouth to his. His lips parted willingly for her and she felt a stab of heat,  
she kindled like tinder, in spite of everything.

Brisk footsteps approached and her skin prickled with awareness, instinct screamed at her to  
bolt, but Jack twined his arms about her neck, as if in the throes of passion, and expertly flicked  
his tongue. Not a hairsbreadth separated them and the hood of the mantle and the darkness  
worked to their advantage; none could possibly have noticed that the startled, choked moan  
was hers, and not his.

Raucous laughter erupted. "Someone's havin' fun!"

"Go on, mate," another man prompted, "slip 'er a kiss fer me."

"Quit gawking and make yerselves useful!"

Lynch's unmistakable raspy voice was vehement, and Jack's muscles bunched, as if he, like her,  
was wound like a coil in anticipation of an attack. A discontented grumbling ensued—_please,  
God_—but the pirates did not advance upon them, they stomped away, instead.

Elizabeth, quelling a tremor, did not break the kiss at once, she deepened it, for the briefest  
of moments, and it was rough, it was bruising, but Jack reciprocated with an edged hunger.  
"Yes," she mumbled, with the trace of a crooked smile, as she pulled back from him. "Were  
we elsewhere, then yes, there would be ripping."

"I'll hold you to it, darling." He slid gloved fingers down her cheek and lightly chucked her  
chin. "Let's be off, aye?"

She retrieved the bag, fiddling with the weight of it. Jack was first out of the alley, and it would  
cost them dearly, as fate would have it, for he almost collided with a man who was rushing up  
the street.

"Hey," the man complained, though by all accounts he was at fault. His gaze fixed on Jack,  
and his expression transformed. "Capt'n!" he yelled. "He's—"

Jack hit him, square in the jaw and with such force that the man reeled backwards. "Head for  
the docks," he said, to Elizabeth. "We won't be able to lose them on foot."

She launched into a run, her heart thudding at a drumbeat's pace. It wasn't far, but when  
the buildings parted to reveal a view of glittering waves and ships at anchor, Jack was panting.

"I didn't lace too tightly, did I?"

He made a gesture of negation. "Bloody—nuisance."

"Oh, it is that," Elizabeth concurred, and he sort of wheezed, in reply.

They continued on, searching for a boat, but not a one of the vessels seemed suitable. Either  
they were large, with masts and more sets of oars than two people could handle on their own,  
or they were situated so that it would be an insurmountable feat to abscond with them, without  
rousing undue suspicion, and Elizabeth grew increasingly anxious.

The loud commotion behind them signalled the arrival of Lynch and the other pirates and,  
contrary to what she expected, Jack ceased walking. "Lizzie."

"What is it?"

"His quarrel's with me, love. Hand me the sword, then go, and don't look back."

The bluntness of his answer shook her to the bone. "I can't."

"Elizabeth!"

She flinched at the reprimand, knowing with a sick certainty that she ought to do what he asked,  
and why, but she could not for the life of her fathom how, no matter the consequences. "No,"  
she persisted, glancing around her in wild desperation. "I won't leave you. There must be—"

She trailed off, brightening, and seized Jack by the sleeve, dragging him along with her. He  
was reluctant, but she did not release him until he sped up, having seen what she had seen.  
The rowboat lay unattended, and it was small and so worn it might spring a leak, but that  
was a risk they would have to take. By the sounds of it, they had precious little time to spare,  
and none to waste on indecision. "I'll row," she said, "the dress will only hamper you."

Jack muttered something under his breath, but agreed with a curt nod and got into the boat,  
taking care not to misstep as he went to sit at the stern. Elizabeth gave him the bag, then fumbled  
to undo the rope and scrambled in after him. She grabbed the oars and pushed off, slowly, so  
the splashing would not betray them.

Before long, Lynch and his men came thundering down the pier, and a volley of shots tore  
through the air. One missed the boat by a scant few inches, and Elizabeth summoned every  
shred of strength she had to put behind the strokes.

As they glided out of range, Lynch's face contorted. "This ain't over, Sparrow! D'ye hear?  
I'll have that head of yers, an' nail it to the bow of me ship!"

He was terrifying in his anger, but Jack was not cowed in the slightest. The hood had slid down,  
most of the braids had tumbled free, and he said, with dry humour, "Devil's own luck, eh, mate?  
Then again, you'll always remember this as the—"

"Oh, shut up, you," Elizabeth hissed. "Isn't he riled enough as it is? We're not aboard the _  
Pearl_ yet."

"No," he conceded, but he tipped the head Lynch had promised to take, and his hand swished  
in a flamboyant salute, directed at those on the pier.

With a vile oath Lynch struck the man next to him, who fell flat on his belly in the water, and  
that display of unbridled violence spurred Elizabeth to even greater exertions. By dint of will,  
she kept rowing, and the sea was calm, the wind was gentle and the boat behaved; they  
stayed afloat, and made rapid progress, besides.

When the town was an indistinct blur, on the verge of being obscured by the solid mass of  
the promontory, Elizabeth allowed herself to pause for a while, and stretched her back. "I can  
manage," she said, at Jack's questioning gaze. "Confound it, Jack, all of this, and for what?  
A wretched pocket watch?"

He tutted. "An engraved pocket watch, darling, in the shape of a skull. For Obediah's collection.  
He's exceedingly fond of such trinkets."

"You _are_ daft," Elizabeth said, and she could not deny that it had been an exquisite piece,  
but not worth death, or worse. "Pure and simple."

"There's nothing simple about it, Lizzie," he responded mildly.

Perhaps not. They were drifting, and she started to row again, the oars creaking in the locks.  
Thin clouds curled around the moon, but did not veil it, and a myriad of stars patterned the sky.  
In the silver light, and so oddly clad, the fey quality about him was more evident than usual.  
It had, she thought, been different with Will. With Jack, the map was constantly shifting, and  
while she had gained some understanding of his idiosyncrasies over the years, she had not  
unravelled him. And it was often exasperating, but never failed to fascinate her.

The eventual sight of the _Pearl_, her curved hull and towering masts outlined against the shore,  
was very welcome, and Elizabeth set her course for the ship. For Jack, the Jacob's ladder  
presented something of an obstacle, and it was a precarious climb, but he persevered, and once  
they were both on deck, Elizabeth took off her hat and sank down by the railing, exhausted.

Gibbs frowned in puzzlement. "Jack?"

"Aye," said his captain, without batting a lash. "It's a disguise."

"Awk! Aren't ye a pretty wench," Parrot stated, puffing out his chest, and Jack did an ironic,  
but elegant curtsy.

"What's happened? Can't have been Obadiah causin' ye problems?"

"Obadiah's a lamb," Jack answered. "Isaac Lynch isn't."

"Mary, Mother of God." Gibbs paled at the mention of the name. "I was about to send Jamie  
out to meet ye, but I figured ye'd merely dallied in town—Mrs. Turner, ye're not injured,  
are ye?"

"It's but a graze," Elizabeth assured him. "I'm well, Mr. Gibbs."

The rest of the crew had drawn near, while they conversed, and were staring unabashedly  
at Jack. Some spoke amongst themselves, Elizabeth caught snatches of an amiable joke, and  
some, like Marty, struggled not to smile.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "What are you waiting for, you scurvy dogs? Make ready to sail!  
Lively, now!" His command brooked no refusal, even swathed in silk he was Captain Jack  
Sparrow, and the men dispersed, scurrying to their posts and up the rigging. Jack turned  
and added, "Take the wheel, Mr. Gibbs. I aim to get rid of this frippery."

Gibbs nodded, pursing his lips together in a manner similar to Marty's, and he went towards  
the helm, but no blue and yellow bird accompanied him there, Parrot was busy preening and  
could not be bothered.

"I'm _not_ getting up," Elizabeth said, as Jack looked at her keenly, but made no attempt to  
retire. "Jamie can unlace you."

"Why, Mrs. Turner," he reproached, "could you, in conscience, let him do it?"

She lifted her brows. "Yes."

"Ah." He plucked at his skirt, brushing out a wrinkle. "But he wouldn't do it right."

And it dawned on her, belatedly, what he was alluding to. "Jack!"

"You meant to ravish me, did you not?"

He was grinning—_damn him_—with impish delight, and a tingle spread through her limbs, as if  
weariness had not numbed them. She gave in to it, in the end, and to laughter. "I did."

Feathers ruffled, and a black beak clicked in what might have been disapproval. "Really bad  
eggs," said Parrot.

_xx_

**Note**: There is an epilogue to this, which is rated R (M), posted on my Livejournal. If you would  
like to read it, send me message and I'll give you the direct link.


End file.
